


So Damn Lucky

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet night becomes a blur of destruction with no warning…this story brought to you by a happy, bouncy plot bunny. Post 2x02 ELAC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This began as a little plot bunny that jumped into my head with Dean trapped under a car and Sam panicking and then…well it seems to have gotten away from me and developed a life of its own. :D
> 
> Also, the title is the title of a Dave Mathews song of the same name about…yep…a car crash. :P
> 
> Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

_Frozen heart_  
Screaming wheels  
But does that screaming come from me?  
Take me back, just before I was spinning  
Take me back, just before I got dizzy  
Take me back, amazing what a minute can do

_~So damn lucky by Dave Mathews Band_

_**CHAPTER 1** _

Sam sat at the little table in their motel room, hunched over his laptop. The room irritated him. It was painted in a vulgar shade of orange that screamed out from the walls even in the dim illumination from the single light behind him. The beds were too short for either of them and he glanced over with a smirk at his brother's feet dangling a foot off the end of the bed while he softly snored. The job that had brought them here had turned out to be a bust. Rather than the werewolf they had been expecting; it had turned out to be a seriously deranged twenty year old with an X-Men fixation and a set of honest to goodness steel Wolverine claws tearing people up.

Sam shook his head. Sometimes the humans were the bigger monsters than the monsters. He was trying to find them a real job and looked over at the bed again. Dean had been frustrated, to say the least, not to mention disgusted. Sam had sighed in relief when he'd decided to just go to bed. He'd worried he'd have to babysit his big brother's bad mood all night. Since the death of their father, Dean's fuse was much shorter than it used to be. Sam focused on finding a real job; something to take his mind off of the things that were clawing at him.

He glanced at the time on the laptop's screen and sighed. It was late and he was tired himself but Dean needed a real job. He scrolled through a few more sites and then leaned back to rub his neck. One in the morning was making his eyes droop. He jerked in surprise when Dean's EMF meter beeped from behind the screen of his laptop. Sam flipped it closed and looked at it, confused.

"Why are you going off?" He asked it softly and reached out to pick it up. Sam looked up and saw the intact salt line at the door; he could see the same under the trailing edges of the curtains at the window above the beds. "What the hell?" He stood as the needle climbed, the noise becoming louder and stared it. His head jerked up as light began to grow in the windows and the sound of a nearing engine got louder. It took him only a second for his tired brain to put the pieces together.

"Oh crap. Dean!" Sam shouted. He lurched toward the bed and his brother as the meter hit a fever pitch and threw his hands over his face. The window exploded into the room a second before a car rushed into view with a roar. Sam felt something hard strike him and throw him backwards. He hit the wall solidly enough to force all the air out of his lungs and white out his vision as the cacophony of noise deafened him.

Sam didn't know how long he lay there when he finally opened his eyes. He was on the floor. The tv stand was half on top of him, the remains of his laptop crushed under the table in front of him and what looked like one of the beds was canted above him against the wall; effectively cocooning him. He raised his arms to push the bed away and shouted in shocked pain as agony lanced through his left shoulder and down his arm. He quickly cradled the arm against him and spent a minute just trying to regulate his breathing and not pass out.

"Dean." Sam called hoarsely. He didn't receive an answer and the image of his brother in bed as the car came in above him pushed him to move with panic. "Dean!" He got to his knees and put his good shoulder to the bed, forcing it out and away to topple to the side. He could only stand and stare at first. The room was a disaster. The front wall was gone. The roof was open to the sky and half the ceiling hung frighteningly low above him as if threatening to crumble in on him at any moment. In the center of it all sat a car; some anonymous Ford stuck at an odd angle with Dean's bed half under the right side. Sam stumbled away from the wall, crawling over the wreckage of the front wall of the room and slid to the ground beside the bed. "Dean?"

Sam ducked as low as his injured shoulder would allow to look beneath the car and his breath froze in his lungs. Dean was there, wedged under the car and partly under the bed. "Dean." Sam ignored his own pain to reach an arm under and reach his brother. He was too still and a steady litany of 'no no no' was running through his mind as his fingers sought Dean's neck and found it. He pressed trembling fingers there and sobbed a few breaths when he felt Dean's heart beating strongly beneath them.

"Thank god. Dean?" He moved his hand to his brother's head, wrapping his fingers over his jaw. "Come on, man. Wake up. Need you to wake up." Sam grimaced, slamming his eyes shut as the movement shot into his left shoulder again. "Crap." He gasped and pulled his arm back out. He reached up to his own shoulder, expecting to feel it dislocated. He recoiled from the touch of his own hand and had to grab on to the fender of the car beside him to stay sitting up as black spots danced across his vision.

"Ok." Sam panted through the pain. "Not…not dislocated." Once the dizziness receded he bent back down and slid his arm under again until he had a hold on his brother's head. "Dean?" He waited and though he was alive, he made no sound nor any sign of waking. Sam let his head thump into the car. "Dammit. Ok. Just…hang on, Dean. I'm gonna get help."

Sam pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and looked around the carnage of their room for a phone. He shook his head at himself and slapped a hand to his back pocket, overwhelmed with relief when he felt his cell phone there. He pulled it out and flipped it open and dialed 911. Nothing happened and he looked down at the screen.

"Dammit!" Sam yelled. There was no signal. He picked his way around the car and the bed to the gaping hole in the front wall and climbed outside. He checked his phone but still had no bars. He looked around and growled in frustration. Any other time something like this wouldn't fail to draw a crowd but they had managed to find the lone empty motel on the edge of town. "Come on." He clasped his hand below his left shoulder to support it and headed across the parking lot, keeping his phone angled so he could see if it picked up a signal.

The further he got from the room and Dean, the more nervous he became about leaving him alone there. "Come on already. Give me a damn signal!" He had crossed the street and nearly reached the side of a boarded up, four story building when he finally saw bars appear on the phone. "Yes!" He hurriedly dialed 911 again and this time was rewarded with an operator who calmly took his information and urged him to stay calm. He hung up when she began asking him if he was injured and instead dialed again. He needed help. They needed help and there was only one person he could think of to call for help. He silently begged Bobby to not be asleep and to answer the phone. A moment later he got his wish.

"Bobby." Sam spoke, breathless with worry and relieved in some small measure to hear the older man's voice. The relief at hearing a friendly voice was so profound he had to fight the tears that gathered suddenly in his eyes.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Bobby asked quickly; there was no mistaking the barely controlled panic in the young man's voice.

"A ghost, I think. The car just came out of nowhere. The EMF started screaming and then the…god Bobby Dean's…I can't get him out and he won't wake up!"

"Sam!" Bobby yelled. "Take a breath, son." Sam was rambling too fast to follow. "Are you alright?"

"Sorry. Dean's alright…I think. The car crashed into the room. He's…he's wedged under the bed." Sam took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He knew he was in shock either from whatever was wrong with his shoulder or from the event itself and tried to find control. "And under the car…which is on the bed."

"Ok, son. Did you call 911?" Bobby asked calmly, trying to sort through what had happened though inside he was suddenly overcome with fear for Dean.

"Yeah. Called them first." Sam looked out at the street and the few people milling around the destruction that was their room across the street. "No cell reception over there." He looked down at the road and frowned. There were clear marks of burned rubber and he followed them with his eyes all the way across to the motel. Sam turned to look up at the derelict building in sudden understanding. "Bobby…"

"Sam?" Bobby called as he heard static and then a clatter that could have been more static or maybe the cellphone hitting the ground. "Sam! You there?" A second later the line went dead and Bobby lowered his own to stare at it. "Ok dammit. What the hell?" He knew where they were, what town at any rate if not the hotel. Bobby snapped his phone closed and rose. He had an overwhelming feeling that something was very wrong and his boys needed him. "I'm comin' Sam."

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Dean woke when he felt hands on him and dragged in the first easy breath he'd had in…he didn't know how long as he realized a weight on his chest was finally gone. "Sammy?" He looked up and instead of his brother found unfamiliar faces looking down at him, smiling.

"Hey! Welcome back."

They were paramedics, Dean's sluggish brain finally informed him, which explained the strobing lights on the ceiling above him. "Wha' happened? Where's…Sammy?"

"Now, don't move sir please." One of the paramedics held him down with a hand on his chest while the other strapped an oxygen mask over his face. "We've controlled the bleeding but we need you to stay calm and still alright? George? Backboard."

"On it."

Dean raised his head, ignoring the orders to stay still and searched the remains of the room for Sam, eyes opening wide in shock at the destruction. He couldn't see him anywhere. He let his head thump back on a pained groan. They must have forced him out of the way to get to Dean. "Want…brother."

"Your brother?" The paramedic smiled down at him again. "We'll find him. You just concentrate on letting us do all the work. Ok, George."

Dean felt himself rolled and laid back; then came the disorienting sensation of being lifted into the air with something hard under his back. He had a vague memory of having been lifted like this once before but it was hazy and he couldn't pin it down. They set him on a gurney and rolled him out. He tried to see around the medics for his brother and growled in frustration when they continually blocked his view. He groaned in pain as they bumped him up into the back of the ambulance and felt the beginnings of panic grip him; still with no sight of his brother. He needed to know what the hell had happened and where Sam was.

"Wai…wait." Dean tried to tell them and ask for his brother again but could do nothing except watch as a needle went into the IV he hadn't even noticed. A strange, floating feeling overcame him and he slipped into unconsciousness again with Sam's name on his lips.

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Bobby squealed his truck to a stop beside the entrance to the Emergency Room, narrowly missing the expensive Beamer beside him. He'd had no problem spotting the hotel the boys had been staying at on his way into town. It was a mess. The roof over one of the rooms had partially collapsed in over a missing wall and the wrecker had still been there trying to extricate the car without bringing the rest of it down. It had goaded him into speeding to the nearest hospital.

He shoved through the doors and stalked to the admissions desk like an oncoming storm. The nurse sitting behind actually leaned back. "I'm lookin' for the guys who were in the motel collapse. One of 'em was trapped under the car."

"Oh. Oh!" The nurse's wary look faded into concern. "Are you family?"

"I'm their Uncle." Bobby fidgeted. "Where are they?"

"Um, the paramedics brought one man in. He's in observation room three and…" She trailed off as Bobby turned and stalked away. "Well then."

Bobby strode down the ER's halls, checking each door until he found the right one. He pushed inside and whipped the curtain back and only then took a deep breath. Dean lay on a bed, partially propped up and very much alive. One side of his face was black and blue. A doctor straightened up from Dean's waist and looked at Bobby curiously.

"How is he?" Bobby asked and went to the bed, laying a gentle hand on Dean's head. "I'm his Uncle."

"Ah. I was hoping you were this 'Sammy' he keeps mumbling about." The doctor smiled.

Bobby jerked in surprise. "Sam's not here? It's his brother. Where the hell is he?"

"I really couldn't say." The doctor put his stethoscope back around his neck and sighed. "You're the first person to turn up. What's his name?"

"Dean." Bobby looked down at him and gripped his shoulder. "Dean Singer. What's wrong with him?"

"Some minor bruising on the face and chest, minor concussion." He smiled up at Bobby. "Nothing to worry about. There was some abdominal trauma." He drew the sheet down to Dean's waist and lifted the gown so Bobby could see the heavy bandage on his stomach. "The paramedics said it was a piece of glass from the window. It didn't penetrate too deeply." He covered Dean back up and shoved his hands in his pocket. "He's lost some blood but not enough to worry me honestly. At this point he just needs rest, antibiotics in case of infection which we're already giving him and nothing strenuous while the wound heals. He was damn lucky, all things considered."

"Right." Bobby looked sadly down at Dean. What kind of luck would depend on where Sam was and what condition he was in when they found him, and they damn well would.

"I'll leave you two alone." The doctor nodded. "He should be waking up anytime now."

"Thanks, Doc." Bobby watched him leave and then pulled a chair over to sit beside the bed. "C'mon, son. Time to wake up." He kept looking back to the door, expecting Sam to come strolling through at any moment and became more and more worried with each moment that he didn't. As worried as he was, Dean would go through the roof.

It was almost an hour later when Dean finally stirred. Bobby stood and leaned over the bed to block out some of the light. He set a hand against the side of his head as he started to roll it back and forth. "Dean. Wake up, Dean." He spoke softly, knowing how sensitive any concussion could make you to light and sound. He smiled as Dean's eyes cracked open and slowly focused on him.

"Sammy?" Dean said softly and Bobby chuckled, unsurprised that was the first word to leave his mouth.

"How hard'd you hit your head?" Bobby smiled down at him.

"Bobby." Dean groaned and raised a hand to his head, then lowered it to stare at the tubes coming out of it. "Where am I?"

"Hospital." Bobby gave the side of his face a light pat and leaned back. "You remember what happened?"

"Uh…" Dean scowled and tried to bring his scattered thoughts into focus. "We were…we were sleeping. I think. No wait, I was sleeping." He glanced around the room. "Sam was…was there a car?"

Bobby nodded. "Sam said a ghost plowed it into your room. You were trapped under it for a while." He could have just told him but he thought it would be less stressful if he eased Dean into it. "Sam called 911. They pulled you out."

Dean nodded slowly. "I think I remember." He had flashes of the room, of seeing stars through a hole in the ceiling, flashing lights, someone's smiling face over him… "Sam!" He lurched up and Bobby was ready for him.

"Easy, son." Bobby pushed him back into the bed as Dean's face dissolved in pain with the movement. "You got stabbed in the gut. Glass, the doc said. Take it easy. You were lucky it didn't go in any deeper."

"Where is he?" Dean got his eyes open again and looked around the small room with purpose. A dire feeling dropped into his stomach as he noticed the one person missing who should have been there. "Where is he, Bobby?"

Bobby sighed. "I dunno. Dean." He braced the younger man's shoulders in preparation. "No one does."

"Bullshit." Dean jerked against the hands restraining him. "Lemme up. We gotta find him."

"Dammit, Dean, just hold on." Bobby fought his struggles and finally won as Dean paled again. "You miss the part where I said you got stabbed in the gut? You're gonna rip the stitches out you keep this up!"

"Don't care." Dean glared up at him. "Bobby, something's wrong. I know it. He'd be here."

"I know, son." Bobby sighed and let go of Dean's shoulders. "You stay put for a few minutes and let me sign you outta here. Get any prescriptions and…and crap. Alright? Stay." He pointed a finger imperiously at the bed. "We'll go find him together."

Dean glared his argument up at him for a moment long and then grudgingly he nodded. "Fine. You take too long I'm leaving without you."

Bobby nodded back, knowing he had only minutes before Dean would make good on his promise and he walked quickly from the room back toward the admissions desk. He'd just have to keep a careful eye on the eldest Winchester so he didn't hurt himself even worse trying to find his missing brother.

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_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2** _

Dean fidgeted in the passenger seat of Bobby's truck, trying to find a comfortable position with the pounding ache in his stomach and at the same time keep Bobby from knowing just how much pain he was in. "You didn't see him at all?"

Bobby sighed. "I drove past, son. Didn't stop for a look." He looked over at Dean sadly. "I knew Sam called 911 so I knew where you'd be."

Dean scowled. "You should have stopped."

"Dammit, Dean." Bobby said sharply and took a deep breath to calm his temper. Dean was scared and scared made him angry; he knew that. "I had no way of knowing. I just thought his phone went dead." He cringed at the choice of words but Dean said nothing. Bobby had told him about the call from Sam and Dean would have run from the hospital if his legs would have supported him through it. Having to be helped up into the truck had cooled some small measure of Dean's panic.

The rest of the short ride went in silence until Bobby pulled up in sight of the motel. Dean's jaw dropped as fear for his brother blew through him. "God, Bobby."

Bobby reached across and patted his shoulder in sympathy as he parked next to the little Dodge he and his brother had borrowed from his junkyard. "Come on." Bobby hopped down out of the truck and was around the passenger side before Dean got the door open all the way.

"I can do it." Dean said angrily and rolled his eyes when the older Hunter ignored him and helped him down anyway. As soon as his feet hit the cement Dean headed for the remains of their room. The emergency crews were gone. The lights were out along the motel and the office was closed tight. He stared into the hole that was their room and his mind simply shut down for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"I can't remember anything, Bobby." Dean said softly, finally. He jumped as a chunk of roof tile clattered down into the open room.

"Sam said he couldn't wake you up." Bobby told him kindly. "I don't think you were even awake for…for this." Now that he had a good look he was amazed either of them had survived.

Dean took a step closer and growled at Bobby's hand on his arm. "Lemme go. I gotta find him, Bobby."

"Just…stay here. I'll look." Bobby climbed over the ruin of the wall into the room. He was fairly sure Sam wasn't in there. He'd said something about calling from across the street when Bobby had spoken to him. Still, he knew Dean wouldn't let it rest until the room was searched. It only took him a few minutes to determine Sam wasn't there. All he found were the remains of Sam's laptop crushed on the floor.

Dean stared at it and the wreck of the car that must have crashed through a few yards away. His mind was a blank. How could he not have woken up? How didn't he hear anything and how could he not know where his brother was? Take care of Sammy. His one and only job; the only real job he had and now he was standing, freezing his ass off in a parking lot staring at a wrecked room and Sam was nowhere to be found. He watched Bobby climb back out of the room with that look on his face that said they were still no closer and Dean…snapped.

"Where is he? Where the hell is he?" Dean turned and shouted. "SAM!" He bellowed and looked back fiercely as he felt the hand clamp onto his shoulder. "Where the hell is he, Bobby? Sammy!"

"Calm down, son." Bobby suffered with him. "Dean."

"No! No way, Bobby!" Dean ripped his arm clear and took a few staggering steps away from the motel. "I was lyin' around in a damn bed and Sam's just…he's…" It was too much. He couldn't lose Sam; not so soon on the heels of losing their Dad. He wouldn't survive it. "He's here, Bobby." Dean crumpled as pain washed through his stomach from the wound, going to his knees on a groan. "Bobby, he's here somewhere."

"We'll find him, Dean. I promise." Bobby knelt beside him and put an arm over his shoulders.

Dean rubbed absently at his stomach to alleviate the pain and stared hopelessly at the pavement. "Sammy." He said softly and then narrowed his eyes. He put a hand out.

Bobby watched him put a hand on the pavement to support himself and patted his shoulder. "Let's get you up." He started to pull but Dean brushed his hand off.

"Bobby, look." Dean pointed to what he'd laid his hand over; a track of burnt rubber across the cement. He saw that it went right up to their room and turned to follow it the other way. "Goes all the way across the parking lot."

Bobby jerked to his feet and stared at the tracks. "Cross the road too." Even in the faint street lights he could tell they went almost up to the boarded up building on the other side. "Hot damn."

"He's there, Bobby. I know it." Dean pushed himself back to his feet and went for the car with Bobby at his side. "You said Sam said the EMF went crazy before the crash?"

Bobby nodded and followed beside him. "Ghost. I think Sam was right."

Dean opened the trunk and pulled the weapons bag over. He took out both sawed off shotguns and handed Sam's to Bobby with a little pang. He dug around in the bag and came out with the EMF meter he'd made for Sam and that too made him take a deep breath.

"Easy, Dean. We're gonna go get him." Bobby shut the trunk for him. "Now you don't be stupid about this. You let me lead." He stared Dean down when he opened his mouth to argue. "You're walkin' wounded, son. Not gonna do your brother any good we get dead before we find him."

"Fine. Can we go now?" Dean turned and headed across the street, purpose in his stride and he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. "Wish I'd had the damn EMF up front instead of the trunk when he drove in here. Might have picked up on this damn building then."

"Don't kill yourself with what-if's. You know better than that." Bobby went up to what was once the front door and kicked two boards off the lower half of the door; reached up and pulled another from the top. He reached in and pushed and the old door creaked inside, unlocked. He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and flicked it on and looked over. "You grab a light?"

Dean nodded and turned on his own. He had to suck in a breath to duck under the remaining boards as he went through the door and took a moment to brace a hand over the bandages on his stomach. "Crap."

"Maybe you should wait…" Bobby started but the glare on Dean's face stopped him. "Never mind."

They walked cautiously into what was once a gracious lobby and Dean pointed to rows of mailboxes in one wall. "Looks like this place used to be an apartment building."

"Ghost would account for it being vacant." Bobby nodded and frowned as he looked around. "You know, I think your Dad was in this town once. Long time ago."

"Dad was here?" Dean asked, surprised. "As in here here?" He pointed to the floor, meaning the building. "Or just in the city?"

Bobby shrugged. "I dunno. Can't remember."

"What was he hunting?" Dean stopped to peer over the front desk and looked back.

"Hell, I don't know. It was a long damn time ago." Bobby rolled his eyes and nodded toward the stairs, walking that way. "You boys were still kids." He racked his memory, trying to pull up the long forgotten details.

"What are the odds, Bobby?" Dean glared around the dusty, empty lobby. "He was here and somehow Sammy's paying for something he did."

"We don't know that." Bobby started up the stairs with Dean on his heels.

Dean snorted darkly. "Bet you ten."

Bobby sorted through old jobs in his head as they walked up to the second floor, trying to find the one that had brought John Winchester to this town. He knew it was in there somewhere, he just had to find it. If there was even a chance Sam's disappearance and the car were related they needed to know.

"SAM!" Dean bellowed up into the stairwell and made Bobby jump. Dean listened intently but heard nothing. He reached the landing and shoved the door open on to the second floor. "Sammy!"

"Could be unconscious." Bobby said softly, cringing at the pained look on Dean's face. "He sounded…out of it, hurt maybe, on the phone."

"Not making me feel better here, Bobby." Dean strode into the hall and stopped as the EMF in his hand against his side came to life with a low whine. "Company." He looked up and down the hall. Some of the doors were open; some were closed. An upended dresser sat in the middle of the hall and one of the light fixtures dangled from the ceiling by a single wire. Dean watched his breath fog out in front of his face and turned to see if Bobby had noticed. He grunted in surprise and then in pain when Bobby rushed him and shoved him back into the wall. A second later he felt the brush of air as something hurtled past and looked up to watch the dresser slam into the end of the hall and break into pieces.

"Balls!" Bobby leaned back. "You ok?" Dean nodded and pressed a hand into his stomach. "This spook seems to have a hard on for Winchesters."

"Huh?" Dean looked back at the dresser. "Dude, that could have hit you too."

Bobby shook his head. "I went into that room." He gestured to a door a few feet away. "I'd only just stepped back out once the thing was already moving. It was aiming for you son."

"Awesome." Dean growled and pushed up from the wall. "We need to find Sam. Now." He started down the hall again. "Sam!" He called and waited for an answer. "Sammy!"

"Sam!" Bobby yelled with him and strained his ears to hear anything out of place. "Dean." He grabbed his arm and stopped him. "You hear that?"

Dean cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Is that…I dunno…tapping?" He listened more intently, closing his eyes and cursed. He turned and ran for the stairs. "It's Morse code Bobby! SOS. It's coming from upstairs somewhere! Sam!"

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam opened his eyes slowly and blinked furiously. Panic swept through him. It was black. "Dean." He whispered his brother's name in confusion. There was no light and for a moment, he worried he was blind. The panic receded slightly as he kept blinking at vague shapes began to resolve themselves in the darkness. "Ok…not blind." He groaned and rolled to his side, or tried too. The stab of pain from his shoulder was immediate and left him gasping. "God." He breathed through clenched teeth as the pain slowly receded and moved slowly.

Wherever he was it was small. He put his back against one wall and his feet touched the other. It felt claustrophobic in the dark. He let go of his left shoulder to reach his arm out to the right and found another wall. "Hello?" Sam called. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Dean!" He shouted and then winced, remembering. Dean wouldn't be answering him; he couldn't. He was trapped under a car in their motel room.

"Hello! Anyone?" Sam dug in his pockets with his good arm. His cell phone was missing but he found his lighter and wiggled it out of his back pocket. He flipped it open and spun the wheel, squinting against the sudden glare. He raised it up and looked around in surprise. It was some sort of old elevator car. The wall across from him was the door; the classic sliding, folding gate. The handle mechanism beside it that had once driven the car up and down was torn off and lying on the floor at his feet; wires dangling loosely from the opening. The light at the top of the car was long shattered and gone.

He got to his knees and took hold of the door, giving it a rattle. It didn't budge. He turned his attention to the wires and after checking several was sure no power was coming to the elevator anymore. The air was musty with age and decay; the dust from his movements tickled at the back of his throat. He coughed and dropped back to the floor, slapping against the back wall as his shoulder once more threatened to put him out.

He moaned and fought against the blackness trying to pull him away. The zippo fell to the floor but still lit, guttering and sending shadows dancing around the inside of the elevator car. Several minutes later he was finally able to breathe again and cautiously moved to pick up his lighter. He startled in surprise when he saw his cell phone on the floor beside it. He scrambled to pick it up, hope flaring as he raised it up to call Bobby and then plummeted him back down into despair. The screen was cracked and dead.

"No." Sam said sadly and let his head thump back into the wall and the phone clatter to the floor. "Dammit." His shoulder was a misery. He knew it wasn't dislocated but something was wrong enough to take him down with pain every time he even touched it, let alone moved it. More upsetting to him was the sure knowledge that no one knew where he was; not Bobby and certainly not Dean.

"Get up." Sam told himself weakly. "Get up. Get out." He picked up the zippo and made himself move. He used the wall to slowly push himself to his feet, moving his shoulder as little as possible. He went back to the door and leaned heavily against it. Sam flicked the zippo back to life and peered around his small prison. There was a hatch in the ceiling but there was no way he was climbing out with only one arm. He tried wiggling the fingers on his left hand experimentally and again, the pain drove him to his knees.

"Son'fabitch." Sam gasped in equal parts agony and frustration. The zippo guttered again and went out. He felt along the floor and found it. He froze. The temperature in the car dropped and became freezing in a matter of seconds. He spun the wheel on the lighter and suddenly remembered what had happened. He had been on the sidewalk talking to Bobby. He'd seen the tire marks and looked up at the building. He frowned and had a blurry image of something…a figure peering down at him from a window on the second floor and then it had rushed at him and then…

"Damn." Sam could remember nothing after that until waking up in the elevator. Obviously whatever ghost had sent the car careening into their motel had grabbed him once he'd gotten close enough. "Stupid, Sam. Very stupid."

He turned his attention to the door. In the light from the zippo he could just make out the bottom of a door in the wall through the gate up near his head. If he could just get it open, he could get out. He closed the lighter and jerked the gate but it remained stubbornly closed. "Come on." He groaned and pulled harder. His shoulder protested the movement and he stopped, letting his head rest against the gate again while the pain passed.

The temperature dropped again and he hastily lit the zippo in time to see his breath frost out in front of him. "Who are you?" Sam asked softly.

"Winchester."

The voice was low, gravelly and hollow. It flowed into the elevator car and menace dripped almost visibly from that single word. Sam jerked in surprise.

"Not good." Sam waited and began to shiver in the spirit driven cold. The movement irritated his shoulder, making him hiss in pain. "What do you want?" He shouted. For a few moments there was nothing and then the spirit appeared through the wall opposite him. Sam stared at the dead man. He had been tall in life, nearly Sam's height with long, stringy blonde hair that brushed his shoulders. Hard, blue eyes stared at him from the over-thin face. Sam opened his mouth to speak again but didn't get the chance.

The ghost rushed toward him and through him. The cold was bone deep. It along with the pain of his shoulder hitting the gate sent him to his knees. He leaned back against it and gasped. A second later the spirit returned and blew through his back, sending him falling forward with a strangled cry. Sam lay on the floor of the car; his whole body shaking with the frigid chill the ghost had left in him. His shoulder spun shards of pain through him. He opened his eyes, in agony and saw the ghost coming again as the flame went out on his zippo.

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He didn't know how long he had been unconscious; how long he had been lying on the floor of the elevator car. Sam groaned and hissed; trying to cradle his left arm and not move his shoulder but the cold was still inside him from the ghosts' attack. He pushed against the wall with his legs until his back hit the other and wearily made it into a sitting position. He folded his left arm in his lap and felt around the floor with his other hand for the zippo.

The ghost was gone but the cold remained in his body. Even his heart felt as though it were beating more slowly. His questing fingers closed around the metal of the zippo and he gasped in relief. He spun the wheel and for a moment wished he could huddle around the tiny flame to warm up. He drew his knees up as far as he could and stared around his prison.

"Dean." Sam said in a voice hoarse with pain and cold. He closed his eyes, exhausted. He jerked his head up. He'd heard…something.

Slowly, carefully; he edged across the floor of the car until he was at the gate and pressed his ear closer. The sound came again and hope once more surged through him. It was his brother's voice.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed it. It echoed strongly in the small car. He took a deep breath and screamed his brother's name again. Sam pulled himself up the gate and tucked the zippo back in his pocket. He shoved his hand through the gate and reached up to pound on the door above him. He banged as hard as he could, pounding out an SOS and fought the agony from his shoulder with each jerk of his body. "DEAN! I'm here!"

The temperature dropped inside the car again. "No. No. No." Sam muttered and banged harder. "Dean!"

A rustling sound near him made Sam stop and dig his lighter back out. He spun the wheel, sparking the flame into life and gasped, backing away from the gate. The wires hanging from the wall waved and twined as if alive. "Dean! Hurry!" Sam shouted again. Instinctively, he lurched back as the wires came for him. The movement jarred his shoulder but he had no time to think about. The wires wrapped around his wrists and pulled him down. He hit the floor hard and his vision nearly whited out with pain. The lighter skittered across the floor, flame still burning and allowed him to see another wire as it shot out to wrap around his throat and yanked him back. His head slapped into the gate of the car as his hands were pulled down and against the gate; the wires effectively tying him to it. He kicked the opposite wall with his feet and tried to make as much noise as he could so his brother could find him. More wires snaked out and down his body and soon his legs were tangled with it and held immobile.

"Dean! De…" Sam gagged as the wire around his neck tightened, cutting off his voice. He was going to die. That was the only thought in his head at that moment. Dean wasn't going to get to him fast enough. The spirit appeared on the other side of the car and Sam waited to be choked to death. In spite of the wire around his throat silencing him, he could still wheeze air past it.

"Winchester." The spirit growled into the car again. Sam stared in surprise as the ghost smiled and then vanished back into the wall. The wire didn't tighten; didn't strangle him. It seemed content to hold him and keep him from calling for help. The flame on the zippo went out again and left him in darkness, able to now clearly hear Dean's voice shouting, so much closer, and Bobby's as well. All Sam could do was listen.

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_To Be Continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3** _

"Sam!" Dean shouted and ran out onto the fourth floor, heedless of the pain in his stomach. "Dammit Sam! Answer me! Sammy!"

Bobby jogged close behind him. "Dean, wait!" He took Dean's elbow and pulled him to a stop. The hall was silent. "It's stopped."

"I heard him, Bobby." Dean panted and leaned a hand onto the wall, curling his other arm over his stomach. "I heard his voice."

"So did I." Bobby assured him. "He's in here…somewhere."

"Why'd he stop?" Dean asked in a voice made small with fear and pain. He shook his head and pushed off the wall. "Let's split up."

"No way." Bobby said firmly. "You are in no shape to take this thing on alone if it comes after you again."

Dean wanted to argue but the nagging pain in his stomach told him Bobby was right. "Fine but can we pick up the damn pace?" He swallowed back the pain again and strode off down the hall.

Together they searched the building floor by floor, checking in each room, in every closet and found no sign of Sam. Dean became more and more consumed with worry with each floor they cleared and by the time they finished searching the sixth and final floor his anger won out over fear and exhaustion.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted and slammed his fist into the wall next to him and through it.

"Take a breath, son." Bobby took his shoulder in a firm grip. "We've missed something." He studied Dean's pale, sweat covered face and sighed. "You need to lie down. That doctor would kill me if he knew what I was letting you do."

"Letting me?" Dean growled angrily at him. "You're not letting me do anything. I'm not leaving here without him."

"Dean…" Bobby paused as the EMF in Dean's pocket started to whine again. "Oh balls. Here we go again."

Dean spun and watched down both ends of the hall with his shotgun ready. "Wish we knew what this guy's problem is." The air cooled around them, making their breath puff out in little clouds. Dean shivered with the chill. "Come on!" He yelled.

"Winchester."

The voice breathed into the hall and made both men stare in surprise. "Did he just say…" Bobby started and Dean nodded.

"Our name. Yeah." Dean narrowed his eyes. "So it is personal." He took a few steps away from Bobby. "Where's my brother you son of a bitch?"

There was a sound that might have been a laugh and then the spirit erupted from the wall beside Dean and crashed into him and through him. Dean was flung back into the wall with a short cry and slid to the floor.

"Dean!" Bobby ran to him and crouched over him. "Son, you alright?" Dean gave him a short nod but it was clear he wasn't. Bobby looked down and cursed again. There were spots of blood on the front of his shirt. "Alright, that's it. We're getting out of here." Dean glared up at him while panting for breath and Bobby waved a hand. "For now, dammit! We need more information if we're gonna find Sam. Like maybe a damn floor plan of this building!"

Dean wanted nothing more than to tear the building apart brick by brick until he found Sam but knew Bobby was right. That didn't make it any easier to nod and agree to leave his brother behind, even if it was only for a short while. He took the arm Bobby held down for him and let the older man pull him to his feet.

"An hour." Dean said firmly as they went quickly back toward the stairs. "That's it, Bobby. One hour and then we're back here."

Bobby nodded. He'd take what he could get.

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Sam could hear them through the wall behind him; Dean's voice, angry and under it the fear; Bobby's voice laden with concern as he called Sam's name. He heard Dean yell and a thump and he knew his brother had put his fist through a wall in his frustration. Sam tried to call out. They were so close! The wire around his neck wrapped tighter allowing him only the barest trickle of air.

He heard the conversation and knew they were leaving and he panicked. He wanted to shout, to scream that he was right here! He jerked against the restraints holding him down and the motion jarred his shoulder. The pain and the lack of oxygen won this time and he gratefully lost consciousness as Dean and Bobby's voices moved away from him.

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Dean rested in Bobby's truck outside the small town hall. Bobby had convinced him to stay put while he went in after the blueprints for the building. He was itching to go back. He needed to go back and find Sam. He wouldn't allow himself to consider that Sam was already dead. Deep down he thought he would know if that happened; that he would feel it if Sam left the world…left him.

He checked his watch again and tried not to twitch with the passage of time. It had been almost an hour since they left. Dean pulled the front of his shirt up and peeled back the bandage. The stitches had held but blood had seeped out after his impact with the wall. Bobby wasn't happy about it and had argued hard for him going back to the hospital or at least a new motel and letting him search for Sam on his own. Dean snorted. He loved Bobby like a father but he wasn't trusting Sam to anyone but himself. Saving Sam was his job. His father's last words came back to him and he scowled up at the night sky; the now familiar fear and guilt coming back to him.

"What the hell did you mean, Dad." Dean whispered softly. "Save him or kill him." He ground his teeth together and after a minute thumped a fist into the dash. "Bullshit." The very thought of killing his little brother was repugnant and their father should have known that. He jumped and looked up as Bobby opened the driver side door. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't even seen him come out.

"Hey." Bobby got in and pulled the door shut. He set a thickly folded pile of paper beside Dean on the seat. "Got the blueprints and I did some digging." He pulled a sheaf of papers from his jacket and handed them over. "Think I know why that spirit's so hot on you and Sam." He scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "Your Daddy was here and in that building 'bout twenty some years ago. Ghost hunt."

"Well he missed it." Dean said angrily and opened the pile of papers.

"That's the thing. He didn't." Bobby started the engine and backed away from the darkened building. Breaking and entering a federal building always put his teeth on edge and he was glad to get away before someone noticed the security had been turned off. "He did salt and burn a ghost. It was easy to miss. Hell I missed it!" He thumped his chest. "I remember now, once I saw the articles."

Dean looked at the copied pages and pictures of the abandoned apartment building. It looked different in the pictures. It wasn't boarded up, curtains hung in the windows; it almost looked homey if not for the few tenants gathered together for the picture. They all had the same wide-eyed, shocked look on their faces and he scanned quickly through the test beside it.

"A serial killer ghost?" Dean looked up in surprise.

Bobby nodded. "Good news. Odds are Sam's still alive. Fits the M.O."

"But Dad ganked him." Dean shook his head. "How's this asshole still there if…"

"There were two." Bobby reached over and tapped the papers in his hands. "Keep reading. The cops missed it at the time. Two guys killing together and they both lived in that damn building. Died there too but not together. The other guy, the partner, they think he killed himself or got taken out but they never found the body."

Dean read the rest of the article and flipped to the next page and the next with growing frustration. "So, the guy Dad ganked, he died in a shoot-out with cops right in the lobby."

"Yep. Then a few years later tenants started going missing. Their bodies would show up later laid out in the lobby like friggin presents." Bobby stared darkly out at the road. "Ligature marks, signs of oxygen deprivation, bruises, repeated strangulation."

Dean growled and read the cause of death. "All dead of a series of gunshot wounds to the chest with no bullets ever found."

"Kinda hard to track down ghost rounds." Bobby said sadly. "Now the other guy, the partner, he died a few days after the one the cops killed." He glanced at Dean to see how he was taking the news; his jaw was visibly clenched. "Here's the thing. The cops never figured out where Silas, that's the one the cops killed, they never figured out where he was keeping his victims before he tossed them in the Lobby."

"Which is why we can't find Sam." Dean set the papers aside and grabbed the blueprint off the seat.

"They searched that building top to bottom and never found it." Bobby rolled his eyes. "'Course that was forty years ago when these guys were alive and no one thought to check the damn building plans and then when your Dad came through twenty years later he didn't have any reason too."

"So what? This guy's out for us because Dad sent his partner off to hell?" Dean shook his head. "How in hell did the cops miss a partner? How did Dad?" It was one more kernel of anger and betrayal to add to the pile that now belonged to his father.

Bobby shrugged. "It was a long time ago, son. Your Dad was still learnin' the ropes and he did the research. He just stopped lookin' once he found Silas and I probably would'a too." He looked over to Dean to see if his words were sinking in. "The killings stopped after John got rid of Silas."

"So this guy just didn't like playing without his partner." Dean groaned. "Until we come along."

"He's alive, Dean." Bobby reassured him. "This sicko won't kill him right off."

"He'll torture him." Dean gritted his teeth together. "Sammy can take it. He won't give up."

"I know." Bobby sped into the parking lot of the ruined motel and parked. He didn't want to put another moving weapon anywhere near the building. "How's your stomach?"

"It's good." Dean climbed carefully down out of the truck. They collected their weapons and flashlights and with blueprints in hand headed into the building once more.

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Sam woke slowly in the darkness. It was silent but for the sound of his own harsh breathing. It took him a moment to realize the pressure had lessened around his throat. He cautiously pulled at his right hand and stifled a gasp when the wires wrapped around his wrist failed to hold it to the wall. He pulled his hand free and reached up, giving the wire around his throat a pull and quickly ducked his head out of them. Getting his left arm free was more of a challenge and left him panting several times as he tried not to pass out each time his shoulder moved.

He fumbled around the floor for the lighter and closed his fingers around it finally. Sam flicked it to life. The small amount of life helped settle him. He stood it up carefully on the floor of the elevator car and bent to pull the wires from his legs. It was difficult and took longer than he wanted with only one hand. Every moment it took to free himself he expected the spirit to return. His nerves sang with the tension but finally he was free. Sam grabbed the lighter and made it to his feet slowly.

Sam was going to get out this time. He told himself that firmly. He held the lighter to the gate and got a good look at the locking mechanism. A small piece of the metal was bent over the latch, keeping it from opening. He groaned, wishing he had another hand to hold the lighter with but he swallowed it and closed it, snuffing out the light. He tucked it in his pocket and felt around the lock until he found the bent hasp. He grunted with the effort of getting a grip on the metal and pulling. He could feel the sharp edges biting into the skin of his fingers and ignored it even as his fingers became slick with blood. Finally it bent out and he sighed in relief, letting go to curl his fingers into his hand and swallow back the added pain.

"Ok." Sam said softly. He took hold of the gate and pulled. This time it moved, rattling back slowly and folding into the opposite side. Every sound made him stop and listen but the spirit seemed to be occupied elsewhere or had spent himself attacking Dean and Bobby. He didn't care. Every moment the ghost was absent was one more chance for him to get himself out of it.

He took the lighter out and it flared to life again. Sam raised it up so he could see the bottom of the door near his head. He wanted to drop where he stood and just give in to the pain and sleep. He was overcome with exhaustion in every bone and the constant burn from his shoulder was no help. He gritted his teeth. He needed to get out and find his brother. He needed to know if Dean was alright. Sam couldn't think of any good reason for them to have left him there for so long that didn't involve Dean bleeding out somewhere. He set the zippo on the small ledge on the inside of the elevator door near the side where it wouldn't be in the way.

"Damn I wish I had both hands." Sam groaned. He bent carefully and sobbed a grateful breath when he felt the knife at his ankle. If that car had plowed into their room a few minutes later, he would have removed it and been in bed. He slid it free and went back up to the door, carefully wedging it between the halves of the door. "Not…dying…in here." He growled and fought to open a crack in the door. He let the knife go and shoved his fingers in the gap. Sam pulled on one side, shouting as he worked to get it open and not stumble to the floor in pain. He earned himself a foot of space and eagerly moved to peer through the gap. The sight that met his eyes took the wind out of him and did send him to his knees. He let his head thump into the cinder wall of the shaft in despair. The door had been walled over from the outside.

"Dean." Sam gasped through the pain and huddled around his bad arm.

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"Son of a bitch! Bobby!" Dean called and waited for the older Hunter to jog back to him. "Look at this!" Dean held the plans out and pointed. "No wonder they didn't find anything when they searched."

Bobby grabbed the page and peered down at it. "Well I'll be damned." There, on the page, was clearly marked an old elevator. Just below it a scrawled note that it had been abandoned and all the doors walled off.

"That's where he is." Dean said, feeling it in his bones. "Somewhere on the third floor. The car must be up there." It was where they'd heard Sam's voice the loudest. "Come on." They were on the second floor and Dean went as fast as his wound would allow to the stairs. "Shoulda brought a damn axe."

Bobby ducked ahead of him going up the stairs, taking point. "Plenty of crap around here we can use to bust through drywall." He wanted to be sure if they ran into the spirit, he'd meet it first. Dean was in no shape to take on the spirit of a pissed off serial killer. He tried not to think too hard about how it managed to keep Sam quiet for so long.

They came out on the third floor and Dean strode ahead of him down the hall, retracing their steps to where he'd punched a hole in the wall earlier. Dean unfolded the plans again and oriented himself to the building design with Bobby looking over his shoulder. "There. I think." Dean pointed down another hall to their left. "About…what is that, twenty feet in?"

"Yeah." Bobby headed down the hall and counted his steps then stopped. "Which side?"

Rather than answer, Dean went to one side of the hall and banged on the wall. "Sammy?" He shouted and banged again.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice, even muffled, coming through the wall made Dean's knees weak. Only Bobby's hand under his shoulder kept him standing until he recovered himself. "Sam, we're coming. You ok?" There was a very pregnant pause before his brother's voice came again and Dean felt his skin crawl.

"I'm ok." Sam shouted back. He fought back to his feet and wiped at the tear that escaped to trail down his cheek. It had taken him a moment to realize that it actually was his brother's voice calling so close to him. He'd been nearly unconscious again. Sam reached his good arm and pounded his fist into the drywall through the open elevator doors to let Dean know exactly where he was. He wanted to tell Dean to hurry. The flame on the zippo was guttering again, this time he knew from the fact it was almost dry of lighter fluid. He kept the panic to himself and flattened his hand against the plaster. A moment later he felt the vibration as Dean hit the wall on the other side and gulped back the relief.

"We're coming, Sammy. Hang on!" Dean yelled and sat back on his knees next to the wall. "Bobby, get me something to break this damn wall open."

"On it." Bobby patted his shoulder and dashed down the hall, looking into each room as he passed for something to use. There was a tone to Sam's voice even through the wall that said he was anything but ok. If he could hear it, Dean could hear it. He found the remains of a bed frame and tore the metal struts from the aging wood and ran back. "Dean. Here."

Dean took the rough, metal club and stood. "Sam stand back!"

Sam heard and backed away from the wall. The darkness was disorienting since the zippo's flame had died. His back bumped into the back wall of the car and he stopped, waiting and listening as the first bang sounded. A few seconds later and a small hole appeared above his head; then another and light slivered in through the gaps. He saw his brother's face appear in one of the holes, blocking the light and grinned with relief.

"Dean." Sam said in a voice gone hoarse.

"Hey, kiddo." Dean smiled and shifted his head slightly to let the light fall on his brother again. What he saw scared him. Sam's neck was covered in blood; it had stained the neck of his t-shirt. He stood with one arm supporting the other and he could see more blood at his wrists. "Sammy. You ok?" Sam nodded wearily. "Ok." Dean decided not to argue the point just then. "Stay back there."

"What?" Bobby saw the look on Dean's face; it was dark and filled with worry.

Dean shook his head. "Not now." He hefted the metal strut and swung at the wall again. Bobby matched him swing for swing at first but Dean started to fall behind as each blow pulled at the wound in his stomach.

"Sit down already, dammit." Bobby's voice so close to his ear surprised him and Dean realized he was leaning with his head against the wall. "I'll finish this."

Bobby pushed Dean gently until he slid to his knees with his back against the wall. He turned back and swung again. It took him another ten minutes to clear the bottom of the door to the floor and he let the impromptu weapon drop to the floor with a clatter. The elevator car was halfway down the wall. He peered into the gloom at the top of the car and his eyes widened. A skeleton lay on top as though it had fallen there from a great height.

"I know where the body is." Dean said ruefully as Dean struggled to his feet beside him.

Dean looked in through the ragged hole and shook his head then dropped to his knees to see his brother. "You ready to get outta there, Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam stumbled forward and reached his good arm up to his brother and Bobby. "Get me out of here. Please."

"Hey, son." Bobby smiled kindly at him and laid flat on the floor to reach into the car while Dean took hold of Sam's right arm. "Gimme your other hand."

Sam shook his head. "Can't." He clasped his fingers around Dean's wrist. "Something's wrong with it since…since the crash."

"Damn." Bobby groaned. "Ok, gimme his arm, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "No. I got him."

"Dean, dammit…" Bobby started but Dean was already pulling.

Dean planted his left foot against the wall and leaned back, pulling on Sam's arm. His brother gave a strangled cry and suddenly went limp in Dean's grasp. "Sammy?"

"Keep pulling." Bobby ordered. He was still lying in the door and had seen Sam's arm move, his face go white before his eyes had rolled back in his head. "He's out." Bobby reached down as Dean pulled him up and slid his hands under Sam's left shoulder. The kid was unconscious; he wouldn't be feeling it anyway. Bobby pulled along with Dean and got his head and shoulders out of the car and into the hall.

Dean crawled his hands up Sam's right arm and got a grip under his shoulder. He bit his lip against the pain flaring in his stomach. "Come on, Sammy. Help us out here." Sam was dead weight. "Almost…got him. Pull harder!"

Bobby tugged on the shoulder and then reached further in to wrap his fingers around the back of Sam's belt in his pants.

At that moment the air in the hall suddenly chilled. "Aw come on!" Dean shouted angrily and then yelled in surprise when Sam was jerked in his grasp. "Bobby?"

"I don't know!" Bobby kept a firm grip in Sam's belt and felt the young man pulled again, as if something below him was trying to pull him back in. Sam was jerked harder and Bobby's grip slipped on the belt, sliding out of his grip.

"No!" Dean shouted and strained to pull backward and take his brother with him. "Sammy!"

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_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER 4** _

Dean fought to hold Sam's weight. His hands slipped from his shoulder back up his arm and over the blood slicked skin until he was tightening his grip around Sam's shredded wrist. "Dammit!" The force that had hold of Sam gave another mighty pull and Dean would have gone down into the car with his brother if not for Bobby.

Bobby wrapped his arms whip like around Dean's shoulder and stopped him tumbling over the edge. He pulled Dean back up. "What the hell's down there?"

"Go get the salt and the lighter fluid." Dean ordered harshly. "I'm not leaving him there and this son of a bitch isn't gonna let us leave with him." He went to the edge and brushed off Bobby's restraining hand. "Go!"

"Dammit." Bobby watched Dean swing his legs over the side and drop down into the elevator car. He slid Dean's shotgun over the side with him. "You better not die on me, you hear me?" He turned, grabbed his shotgun and broke into a run.

Dean dropped into the car and hunched over his stomach for a minute with a groan. "Damn." He jumped when he felt something hit his back and turned to find his shotgun. "Heh. Thanks Bobby." He knelt and hovered over Sam. "Sammy?" His brother moved slightly and Dean smiled, thinking he was waking up. "That's it, buddy. Wake up now." He put a hand on Sam's arm. Sam moved again and Dean scowled. The movement wasn't right. It was more like a ragdoll being pulled.

"Sammy?" He fumbled his flashlight out of his pocket and clicked it on, playing it over his brother. "Shit!" Wires were wrapped around Sam's legs and another was snaking its way up his body toward his neck. Dean followed the wires with his light up to the destroyed mechanism. "No you don't." He brought his shotgun up and fired into it. The sound was deafening but as the rock salt penetrated into the metal, the wires seemed to lose their grip. Dean ripped them away and pulled Sam with him. He sat with his back to the wall and pulled Sam in against him, keeping the shotgun trained on the wires. He wrapped his other arm around his brother's chest and held him up.

"Ok, buddy. Anytime you wanna wake up." Dean said softly. Sam's weight against him was actually providing some much needed pressure to the wound on his stomach, lessening the pain. Sam stirred again. "Sam?"

Sam groaned and blinked his eyes open. To his dismay he wasn't out and safe; he was still in the car and he groaned again. "No. No. No."

"Hey, hey. Sam." Dean tightened his arm around him. "I'm right here, dude. Come on."

Sam startled and yelped in pain as his shoulder moved. He let his head roll to the side until he could just make out Dean's face over his right shoulder. "Dean."

"There you go." Dean smiled.

Sam dropped his head forward. "You stuck…in here…with me?"

"Nope I jumped in." Dean said ruefully and chuckled when Sam snorted.

"Dumbass." Sam said through clenched teeth.

"Takes one to know one, chief." Dean moved his arm and heard Sam hiss in pain again. "Dude, what is wrong with your shoulder?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't…I don't know. It's not dislocated." He put his head back onto his brother's shoulder and closed his eyes, breathing through it. "Can't even touch it."

"Damn." Dean moved his arm down slightly so it rested over Sam's elbow rather than his shoulder. "We're gonna get you out of here. Soon as Bobby comes back." He glanced above them. "Bastard's bones are on top of the damn car."

"Seriously?" Sam asked in surprise and shook his head. "No wonder he's so…so damn strong…in here." He coughed and moaned.

Dean had a nice up close view of his brother's neck and resisted the urge to swear. There were multiple grooves in the flesh, each of them bleeding sluggishly onto his shirt. He felt Sam stiffen as the air grew colder. "Easy, buddy."

"He shoots into you." Sam said hurriedly and used his good hand to raise the barrel of Dean's shotgun higher. "You'll only have…have a second….before he comes at you. Don't miss."

"I won't." Dean slid out from behind Sam and leaned him gently back against the wall. "You keep it together."

Sam nodded shakily. "I'm good." He cradled his left elbow to keep his arm still while his breath puffed out in front of him. "Froze me last time."

"Not this time." Dean growled and stood clear. "Not if I can help it." Dean hoped that since he was there and standing, the ghost would come for him first. Sam didn't look like he could take much more.

"You ok?" Sam asked from the floor. "Last time…I saw you, you were under…under the damn car."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Paramedics pulled me out. I'm good."

"You're bleeding." Sam nodded toward his stomach and Dean cussed.

"Ok, I got stabbed a little." Dean admitted. He shivered as the air cooled even further.

Sam laughed softly. "Stabbed a little. Nice." He worked to push himself up the wall.

"Dude, whoa. What the hell are you doing?" Dean put a hand on his good shoulder and pushed him back down. "Stay there dammit."

The spirit chose that moment to appear, shifting through the wall behind Dean. Sam's eyes widened and Dean spun, bringing the shotgun up. He fired and dispersed the ghost while rock salt rained down on the floor.

"Gotta get out of here." Sam got to his knees cradling his arm and stood unsteadily. "Dean, we need to get out."

"Dammit, Sam. We will." Dean took his elbow to steady him.

"No. Now." Sam was adamant. The spirit knew they had a weapon now and Sam knew he wouldn't make the mistake of showing himself next time. He eyed the wires stretched across the floor warily. "He can drop this thing Dean."

"Crap." Dean groaned and slapped himself for not thinking of that sooner. "Ok. Change of plan." He pulled Sam over to the door. "I'm gonna boost you up. You climb out. I'll be right behind you."

Sam nodded and reached his good arm up to the ledge. He groaned as his left shoulder shifted. "Crap."

"Just hold on another minute." Dean urged. He bent, set the shotgun aside and picked Sam's foot up, clasping his hands around the sneaker and heaved. "Dude…more salads…holy crap." He grunted with the weight and the pain that stabbed into his stomach.

Sam used his arm to pull himself up over the edge and crawled out into the hall. His shoulder screamed agony at him as he rolled and he ended on his back staring up at the ceiling as his vision greyed out.

"Sam?" Dean watched his feet roll out of the way and heard a sort of choking gasp. "Dammit." He bent to retrieve the shotgun and clamped a hand over his wound. More blood had soaked through his shirt. "Bobby's gonna be pissed at me." He slid the shotgun up onto the floor above and grabbed the edge to pull himself up. He got his shoulders out into the hall and groaned. Sam lay a couple feet away. His face was white and broken out in a sweat, no doubt from the pain of whatever was wrong with his shoulder. He kicked his feet against the wall and managed to get the rest of him out and on his back.

"No more…motels…facing the damn road." Dean groaned and grabbed the shotgun before rolling to his side and crawling over to sit next to his brother. "Sammy?" He tapped Sam's cheeks, wary of shaking him and was rewarded with a low moan.

"Dean! What the hell happened?" Bobby's shout made him jump.

Dean watched him jog down the hall toward them and rolled his eyes. "What? You'd think we can't take care of ourselves or something."

"Well past experience…" Bobby said with a smirk. "Holy hell." He dropped next to them and got his first clear look at Sam.

"Don't touch his left arm." Dean warned as Bobby reached out to him.

Bobby rested a hand on the side of Sam's face instead as he moaned again and opened his eyes. "Hey, Sam."

"Bobby." Sam said softly and smiled.

"One crispy serial killer ghost coming up." Bobby told him and turned to the bag he'd brought.

"Serial killer?" Sam asked of Dean and got a nod.

"Long story." Dean patted his good shoulder and brushed the long hair out of his brother's eyes.

Bobby went to the elevator shaft with a can of salt and upended it; letting it pour down on top of the skeleton draped over the roof of the car. It sounded like rain as it hit and scattered. "Surprised he hasn't shown back up yet."

"He did." Dean said darkly. "Gave him a face full of rock salt." As he spoke Bobby's EMF meter started to whine in his pocket. "Looks like he's back for more. Hurry up."

Bobby nodded and dropped the can, pulling out the lighter fluid. He squirted it down the shaft as well doing his best to cover the skeleton. "Balls!" Bobby shouted as he felt his right leg yanked out from under him.

"Bobby!" Dean scrambled over to him and saw wires wrapped around his ankle and creeping quickly up his leg.

"Light him up already!" Bobby yelled. He planted his left leg on the wall to stop his forward slide into the car.

Dean fumbled in his pockets and finally came up with the zippo. He spun the wheel and it sparked but didn't light. "Oh you little bastard!" He jumped as a shotgun blast went off beside him and looked up in time to see the ghost burst apart in a cloud. Sam dropped back to the floor and let the gun fall from his fingers. "Nice!" Dean spun the wheel again. The flame caught and he leaned out into the elevator shaft. "Burn in hell you son of a bitch!" He dropped the lighter and grinned as the flames caught the skeleton below and roared into life.

Bobby felt the pull on his leg vanish. He yanked it out of the shaft and hastily unwound the wires. "That's gonna leave a damn mark." He groused and pushed back until he was sitting next to Sam.

"Tell me about it." Sam said wearily.

Dean watched the bones burn for a minute more and then turned to sit with his back against the wall. "How you doin', Sammy?"

"Peachy." Sam retorted. He let his head thump into the floor. "Hospital now?" His voice was resigned. He didn't want to go but whatever was wrong with his arm wasn't something an aspirin and a good night's sleep would fix.

Bobby nodded. "Hell yes. For both of you." He glared over at Dean and the hand covering the disturbingly large blood stain on his shirt.

"Help me up." Dean let Bobby pull him to his feet. Together they got Sam to his feet and Dean pulled his arm over his shoulders. "Ok, buddy. Three flights of stairs. No big deal."

"So you say." Sam rolled his eyes and leaned heavily on Dean.

It took them twenty minutes to get out of the building with the frequent stops they had to make; for Sam when his arm was jostled or for Dean who'd lost enough blood that vertical was becoming a problem.

"You two idjits wait here. I'll bring the truck over." Bobby shook his head. "Can't leave 'em alone for five minutes." He grumbled as he jogged across the street.

Dean leaned back against the wall of the building with Sam beside him. "You holding up?"

Sam nodded but didn't manage to get his eyes open. "Want…my arm back."

Dean snorted. He got them both moving as Bobby's truck rumbled up to the curb. He pulled the passenger door open and had to half push Sam up into the seat. "Make room, dude." Dean pulled himself up into the seat and sighed as he shut the door and let his head drop back. The cab was a tight fit for the three of them.

Sam bit off a cry of pain as Bobby's elbow bumped his arm when he shifted into gear. "Ah god, Sam. I'm sorry!" Bobby watched as Sam's eyes once more rolled and he started to fall forward into the dash.

"Crap!" Dean caught him and eased him over so he was resting against his left side. He turned worried eyes to Bobby. "How fast can you drive?"

"Fast enough." Bobby hit the gas.

Dean held Sam's head up against his shoulder. "Damn I'm sorry, kiddo." He said softly.

"Now you know damn well he'd tell you it wasn't your fault." Bobby chastised him gently. "You were under a car for cryin' out loud. What the hell were you supposed to do?"

"Protect him." Dean said simply, angrily.

"You saved him. Pretty sure that counts." Bobby retorted and missed Dean's slight flinch at his choice of words.

Save him or kill him, Dad had said. Dean shook his head. "I've got you, Sammy."

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Bobby staggered back into the hospital under Sam's weight. He'd draped him over one shoulder since Dean was barely walking himself. "Hey! Could use some help here!" He shouted and gratefully let the orderlies who swarmed them pull the unconscious man off his shoulder. Dean batted away several helping hands and tried to keep pace with the gurney currently holding his brother.

"Dean Singer." The doctor who'd seen them before strode into his path. "I seem to recall telling you bed rest and lots of it. You don't seem to have listened. Nurse?" He waved a hand and Dean found himself held between two strong men and being summarily lifted onto a gurney of his own.

"Hey! Lemme…where's Sam?" Dean struggled vainly. He'd lost enough blood his head was foggy and the only thought willing to stay in it at that moment was not losing Sam again.

"Dean!" Bobby took hold of his face. "Take a breath, son."

Dean stared at Bobby and tried to find calm again. "Sorry. Just…I wanna stay with him."

The doctor sighed, seeing the exchange and motioned the nurses to follow the other gurney. He tapped Bobby's arm as Dean was wheeled away. "That's the 'Sammy' he was calling for?"

"His little brother. Yeah." Bobby nodded. "You know what's good for your sanity you'll keep 'em together."

"I'm beginning to get that yes." The doctor smiled. "What happened to the other one?"

Bobby, ever fast on his feet, had a story ready. "The guy that crashed the car into their room?" The doctor nodded. "Well he obviously couldn't get at Dean but he grabbed Sam. Had him tied up in this old building across the street." He didn't have to fake the dangerous glare that overtook his face.

"I see." The doctor nodded and his eyes softened as he looked on the two brothers. "Do you know what he did to him, apart from the obvious?"

"Something's wrong with his left shoulder. We even touch it he passes out." Bobby hung back as the doctor moved to Sam. "Strangled."

"Several times from the look of these wounds." The doctor shook his head sadly. "Poor kid." He felt gently around Sam's left shoulder and frowned. "The joint is swollen but in place. Let's get him into x-ray stat. See what we're dealing with then we'll get these ligature marks cleaned up." He put a firm hand on Dean's chest when he tried to rise and follow as Sam was wheeled quickly away. "You stay."

Bobby smirked at the firm tone and no nonsense glare the man gave Dean. "Best listen to him, son."

The doctor tugged Dean's shirt up, took hold of the bandage and peeled it back from his stomach. "Been tearing up my handiwork." He turned a disapproving look on the young man. "Not amused."

"Uh…" Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and finally gave up. He dropped back onto the bed. "Hell. I'd do it again to save him."

"Just lie back please." The doctor looked over to Bobby and smiled. "You should probably have a seat out in the waiting area."

Bobby growled but took the hint and went out. He'd only be in the way he knew but he didn't have to like it. He found a chair and dragged it close to the doors, sat down and let his head rest on the wall behind him and closed his eyes. "One hell of a damn night."

He jerked upright at the touch on his arm and found the doctor standing over him with a smile. "Mr. Singer."

Bobby rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked up. "How long was I out?"

"It's been about an hour, give or take. I'm Doctor Nelson by the way." He sat beside Bobby. "Dean is fine. I've redone his stitches. He's lucky he didn't need another transfusion."

"What about Sam?" Bobby leaned forward and caught the frown on the doctor's face.

"That was a little more complicated." Doctor Nelson leaned back. "His shoulder was dislocated during the crash. He woke up enough at one point to tell us that." He sighed. "Probably when the car initially hit him. I'm guessing the impact with the wall that knocked him out popped his shoulder back in to place. The problem is that when it did, it caught the Brachial Plexus inside the joint."

"Brachi-what?" Bobby was more familiar than most with medical jargon, a hazard of Hunting, but that was a new one.

"It's the bundle of nerves that controls the shoulder, arm, forearm and hand." Doctor Nelson pointed to an area just under the shoulder joint. "It was pinched, if you like, inside the joint causing him extreme pain every time he tried to move his arm. We had to re-dislocate his shoulder and go in surgically to pull it out."

"Balls." Bobby breathed. "But he's ok? His arm I mean? He can use it now?"

"He should be fine. We'll know more tomorrow once the swelling has gone down." Doctor Nelson smiled. "It was a minor procedure. He probably won't even have a scar from the incision. His other injuries were much easier. A minor concussion which we'll keep an eye on him for overnight but really there's no worry there and the wounds on his wrists, ankles and neck." He scowled. "The man who did this to him. He won't be coming after him again I hope?"

Bobby shook his head firmly. "No way."

"Good. I'll take you back to them if you like." The doctor smiled now. "I took your advice and put them in the same room. Come on." He stood and led Bobby down the hall.

Dean rolled off his bed and wheeled the IV stand with him over to his brother's. Sam was twitching in the bed and let out something that sounded close to a whimper. His left arm was cocooned in a sling and strapped to his chest to protect it from movement. Bandages wrapped both of his wrists and around his throat and the white only emphasized how pale he was and how dark the shadows under his eyes were.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean slid a hand across his forehead and brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes. "Sam. Wake up." Doctor Nelson had told him everything, most of which he even understood. The gist being that Sam's left arm was toast for a week at least; the mother of all dislocations. He was supposed to let him sleep but there was no way he was letting a psycho ghost haunt him even in his sleep. "Sammy."

Sam thrashed once and then jerked upright suddenly, nearly colliding with him. "Dean!"

"Easy, buddy!" Dean grabbed his good shoulder. "It's alright. You're alright. We're in the hospital."

Sam was panting for breath and could still feel the close air of the elevator car and the wires tightening around his throat. He raised his good hand to his neck. "Crap."

"Don't play with it." Dean pulled his hand away from his neck. "You're good and serial ghost is toast." He smiled.

Sam nodded, feeling the panic begin to recede. He let his head fall forward to thump into Dean's chest. "Thought you were dying under that car."

Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders and didn't push him away or make fun of him. He figured after the night he'd had, Sam had earned a minor chick flick moment. "You got help. I'm good." He squeezed the back of his brother's neck reassuringly. "Doc was kinda pissed at me for popping his stitches all over the place."

Sam nodded again into his chest and decided he just didn't have the energy to raise his head. "Can't 'member if he told me…earlier. M'I gonna lose my arm?"

Dean chuckled. "No such luck. I don't get to make one armed bandit jokes." He patted Sam's back. "Sadly. I was looking forward to that dammit."

Sam snorted softly. He felt the artificial lassitude of pain killers creeping up on him again and didn't fight it. He was exhausted.

Dean felt him grow heavier and sighed. "Dude. No sleeping on the invalid."

"I'm'a invalid." Sam muttered sleepily into his brother's shirt.

Dean laughed softly. "Ok, come on sasquatch." He gently supported Sam back until he was lying on the pillows once again. He patted Sam's chest and sat on the edge of the bed as he drifted back to sleep.

"I'm going to have your brain dissected for physical signs of inability to follow a doctor's orders."

Dean jumped and turned to see Doctor Nelson and Bobby come into the room. He grinned sheepishly. "I'm in bed."

"Your bed please." Doctor Nelson rolled his eyes.

"I will." Dean gave Bobby a nod but didn't move. He kept his hand on Sam's good shoulder. "Soon as he's good and asleep." As if to prove his point, Sam twitched and muttered his brother's name in his sleep. "Easy. Right here, Sammy."

Doctor Nelson sighed and shrugged. "At least lay down next to him then so you're not putting undue stress on your wound."

Dean rolled his own eyes but nodded. He nudged Sam over a little and stretched out beside him, leaning up against the wall. "Shut up, Bobby."

Bobby grinned. "Aww, I'm gonna go get my camera." He patted Dean's knee. "You boys haven't looked this cute since you were toddlers."

"Dude, I will hurt you." Dean warned and Bobby laughed. "Bite me."

"We should let them rest." Doctor Nelson smothered his own laughter and smiled before leaving.

"You boys get some sleep and I'll be back in the morning." Bobby looked them over and took a deep breath, smiling. "Try not to get run over while I'm gone."

Dean chuckled as he left. He leaned his head back onto the wall and rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Night, Sammy." Save him, Dean thought, every damn time.

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_The End._


End file.
